This Should Be Wrong, Right?
by CouldThisBeOutOfLine
Summary: Dean's had alot of strange thoughts about Sam. But it's not like he can help it. It's Sam's fault for being so damn hot.  This is Sam/Dean, so if you don't like, don't read.


There were many words Dean could use to describe his younger brother. Smart. _Obnoxiously_ smart. Stubborn. Nice. Maybe a little _too _nice. Clumsy, which is probably because he's too tall for his own damn good. And maybe even a little moody, which might not exactly apply to  
Sam's personality because most 15 year olds happen to be that way.

But up until this point, the word _hot_ had never crossed Dean's mind. But it's not like he could help it. Sam just happened to look so damn good at the moment. They were in a park, playing basketball with a couple of local kids. Sam's face was flushed a bright red and sweat rolled down his neck, which usually happens when the sun's practically cooking you. His hair managed to stick to his face and stuck up in random places. And Dean couldn't help but stare at the patch of skin that showed whenever his shirt decided to ride up.

_Oh crap_, was he licking his lips? Dean's emerald eyes locked with hazel ones, and he quickly looked away. Great. His little brother just saw that he was basically eye-raping him.

* * *

Dean plunked down on the motel couch, flipping on the TV. The screen was all out of whack and the sound constantly faded in and out, but what could you really expect from some rundown motel in the middle of fucking nowhere, Kentucky? Besides, it provided Dean with a distraction from the many strange, incestuous thoughts he's had in the past hour. The thoughts of Sam. The thoughts of Sam without that shirt on. Or pants. The way Sam's hair swoops in front of his eyes. And the oh so many thoughts of wondering how good a kisser Sam is. The Sam who he had happened to leave alone at the park with no ride..oops.

Dean groaned, deciding that the TV just wasn't a big enough distraction. He walked over to the fridge, taking one his dad's beers. It's not like he'd notice anyway. And after that beer bottle was empty, Dean decided that just _maybe_ their dad wouldn't notice two missing beers. Or three. Or four.

"Crap," Dean said, noticing there were none left. Oh well. He'd find time to buy some more before their dad came back. _If_ he came back. And anyways, Dean was pretty sure he didn't need another one. It already felt like he was on a fucking carousel, and he stumbled over to his bed. But at least he had accomplished what he had set out to do. He smiled to himself, having forgotten whatever thoughts had been bothering him earlier.

But he soon remembered as the motel door quickly opened and slammed shut. He looked up to find Sam-(well, three Sam's)-glaring at him.

"What the hell, Dean!" his younger brother yelled. "You freaking ditched me in that park! What's been up with you lately?"

"Dude. What?" Dean said, trying his best not to slur his words. But his puffy eyes and being a little off balance obviously tipped Sam off to the fact that his older brother had had a little too much to drink.

"You're drunk," Sam stated, kicking a bottle of beer on the floor. Dean could have swore he picked that up. Oh well. Sam stomped over to his bed, seeming exhausted.

Dean sighed, trying to stand up. "I-I'm sorry, Sammy. I really, ya know, try. I'm just-just a lame excuse for an older brother. I mean, what kind of an older brother has these thoughts?" By then he had reached Sam's bed, grabbing ahold of his younger brother's shoulders. And Dean wasn't exactly sure when he had started crying, but there they were. Tears. Just pouring down his face. And he wasn't exactly sure why.

"Dean, it's okay, dude," Sam said, pulling Dean's hands off his shoulders. "Whatever you're upset about, it's okay."

And neither of them can say for sure who was the first to lean in, but they were both soon aware of what their brother's mouth tasted like. And maybe the taste of a Miller High Life on Dean's tongue is what brought Sam back to Earth.

He pulled away, which resulted in Dean doing his best impersonation of a puppy dog. Yeah right, Sam was the only one who could pull that off and they both knew it. And after a moment of struggling, he somehow managed to get Dean back on his own bed, who pouted for a little bit before passing out.

* * *

"Holy crap, why are the lights so bright?" Dean pulled his pillow over his face.

"It's called a hangover, moron," Sam said, getting a pillow to the side of the head as a response. He was sitting up on his bed, reading a giant book about lore on pagan gods, which their dad happened to be hunting. Like Dean said, _obnoxiously_ smart.

Dean sat up, looking around the room. But what was it he was looking for? Something had happened...something. His eyes froze on Sam's lips. He looked up to see Sam staring at his lips.

"Did I do something stupid last night?"

"Yeah, well you were the one that was drunk. At least you can justify doing it."

* * *

They both mentally agreed that it was best to not talk about what had happened. They just avoided looking at or touching each other more than was deemed necessary.

Things went back to normal-well, normal enough for them-and when their dad eventually came back, they packed up and headed to Missouri. Apparently there had been alot of demon omens spotted in some town, or whatever. Dean wasn't really paying attention when their dad was telling them. He was a little too focused with how damn good a kisser Sam is. He may have been drunk, but he remembers that part pretty vividly.

As soon as they were checked into the "Purple Flamingo" Motel-(Dean swears these people were drunk when they named the place)-there was only about 10 minutes of talking before their dad left. He said he'd only be gone a day or two, which in John talk usually meant about a week.

Dean sighed as he heard the Impala start up, their dad just now leaving. To his right, Sam laid back on his bed. And Dean tried _really_ hard not to stare, but once again the word _hot_ ran through his mind.

"Are you done staring so we can go ahead and talk about this?" a voice said, snatching Dean away from his thoughts. Turns out that voice was Sam. Who had just caught him staring...again.

"Dude, there's nothing to talk about." Dean was starting to get a little fed up with it all. He thought he had been hiding it so well, but apparently not.

"Yeah, alright. Whatever." Sam stood up and stretched, fully aware that his shirt rose up to reveal his stomach. Dean was reminded of that day in the park.

"Do you _always_ have to be like this?" Dean said, not even caring if Sam saw him staring.

"Like _what_?" Sam said, flashing that smile that Dean loved. God, Dean swore that smile could be enough to stop something as bad as the fucking apocalypse.

Dean tried to hold himself back. To keep himself from putting his mouth on Sam's. To stop his hands from roaming all over his little brother's body. He eventually just decided to not give a shit on what was right and wrong. _God_, it felt right. And Sam didn't seem to mind either when Dean's hand found its way under his shirt.

Dean hesitated a little, feeling a little nervous. _Nervous?_ Hell, he'd had sex before. He was nineteen years old. But this seemed different. This was Sam. The one person he'd give his life for. And he didn't want to mess up anything.

He looked down at Sam, who was watching him, waiting for him to do something. Damn, he'd never seen that look in Sammy's eyes before. And to be honest, it was making his pants seem even tighter, if that was possible.

"Dean it's okay," Sam said pushing his head up to catch Dean's mouth in another kiss. A kiss that seemed to last forever, only stopping as Sam groaned, Dean's knee grinding into his crotch. Dean brought his mouth down on Sam's neck, who gasped as his brother sucked on _that_ spot. That one spot that made his vision blur and his insides feel like goo. He shuddered, and Dean smiled at getting that reaction from his brother.

Sam's hand wound through his older brother's hair as Dean's mouth found its way back to his. Dean could hardly believe it as as his tongue explored Sam's mouth, memorizing every little thing about it. He could hardly believe that Sam hadn't pushed him off. Hell, he kinda wished he had. Wished Sam had done something. Called him a freak or stated that the whole kiss between them had been a big freaking mistake. Wished Sam had done _anything_ but kiss him back.

Sam arched back as Dean's hand palmed him through his jeans. Dean fumbled for the zipper on Sam's jeans, his mouth never parting from his brother's, though the need for oxygen was greatly increasing.

After the younger boy was stripped of his pants and boxers, Dean paused. There was a little a voice in the back of his head screaming WRONG. THIS IS WRONG. But that voice seemed to be over-ruled by the fact that his dick couldn't become any more tighter in his pants. And the sight of Sam laying under him was just too damn beautiful to pass up.

Sam pulled away, obviously noticing that Dean had frozen. "Please, Dean. God, just..just do something." Dean blinked, taking a second to look at Sam, who was squirming underneath him. He crashed their mouths together, molding them into one piece, while his hand wrapped around Sam's dick. "Mmmph, Dean," Sam managed to mumble through the kiss. Dean spent the next few moments catching Sam's moans in his mouth, which managed to turn him on even more than thought possible.

He slowed his strokes on Sam's dick, before completely stopping. Sam was about to protest, but decided against it when Dean pulled his shirt off. "It was getting a little too hot in here," he said, and slowly slid down so his face was level with his younger brother's dick. He decided to just go ahead and do it before he could change his mind.

His lips slowly went around Sam's dick, his tongue teasing the tip. Sam instantly moaned his name, resisting to the urge come within the first fucking five seconds of the blowjob his brother was giving him.

Dean locked his eyes with Sam as he took him deeper, doing stuff with his tongue that even _he_ didn't know he could do. He wasn't even sure how this whole thing was supposed to work. Damn, he should have paid more attention when girls did it to him. Was he suppose to literally blow, like Sam's dick was a balloon or something? Or should he just suck and swirl his tongue around? And where was he supposed to put his hands? He decided to just settle on intertwining them with Sam's. But it's not liked he'd know the proper etiquette on sucking off a guy anyway, considering this was his first time doing that.

But Sam didn't seem to be disappointed as he mumbled many incoherent words. He was pretty sure _goditfeelssogood_ was mumbled in there somewhere. His eyes felt like they were going to roll into the back of his head, and his hands tightened around Dean's. Dean continued to bob his mouth around Sam's dick, and Sam was pretty sure nothing in the world could feel as good.

He felt a little embarrassed as he shouted Dean's name, his body rocking as he finally reached his release, shooting his load into Dean's mouth. He hoped he hadn't officially creeped his brother out by shouting his name, but those worries went away as Dean crawled back up to him, cradling his face with his hands.

"You're so fucking hot, Sammy," Dean murmured, his lips brushing Sam's. "And you're mind, ya got that? Only mine." Sam nodded, still trying to believe the whole thing wasn't just a dream. He put his hand on Dean's arm, gently rubbing his thumb over the sweaty skin. Just feeling Dean's strong arm helped confirm that everything was reality, and not his weird, fucking imagination running wild.

Dean brought his mouth down on Sam's. But this time it was different. There wasn't any longing, roughness to it. There wasn't any need to kiss as if it'd be the last time, because they were both pretty sure they'd be doing it they had at least a week before their dad came on, which gave them alot of time to map out the rest of each other's bodies.


End file.
